


Edge of now

by Ruta



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24590026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruta/pseuds/Ruta
Summary: "In the face of all that I'd done, I didn't think I deserved it," she says. "The simple, human happiness to feel like I belonged to someone. I wasn't ready then, but I am now."She hopes he understands what she is truly saying, that -(Rewritten moment in 7x01.)
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Edge of now

It has been a long day and Clarke is running out of words.

In front of Madi's outburst, Bellamy tilts his head with a smile full of longing and understanding. "Welcome to puberty. At least you don't live in a shoebox. When she'll ask you to, you can give her space, or whatever the hell that means."

He is talking about Octavia. As if it were not evident from the bitterness in his voice or from the wrinkles and lines of concern on his forehead.

She sighs, an incipient headache pounding behind the eyelids.

"Not my finest moment," says as she occupies the seat next to him. Her mind plays trick on her because instead of a grown man with a beard, for a moment she sees a soldier-boy, a little gruff and harsh, with haunted eyes and the whole world on his shoulders.

She doesn't remember the last time they have been like this. On the brink between past and present. A bogus peace that they must protect and a potential war at their front door. The future they are building rests its foundations on mist and sand. The world around them is a powder keg. She can taste the static electricity before the storm.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Indra says from the other end of the table. "You handled that well."

"You would think that," Gaia replies without missing a beat. She turns to her and Bellamy and explains bluntly, "After my father died, crying was forbidden."

Despite the unspoken criticism, Indra doesn't even bat an eye. "We were at war. It made you strong."

"It made me become a Fleimkepa," Gaia hisses. She looks down, staring at her hands blankly. "The question is, who is the Fleimkepa without a Flame?"

"What's left of me if I'm no longer my sister's keeper?" Bellamy asks in the same tone, shifting the focus to him.

Indra is just sitting right there, hard-faced. The present energy could explode at any moment. Octavia's ghost, instead of bringing them closer, is an insurmountable wall.

"We all have to find our new path," Indra concludes before leaving the room.

The words echo within her along with those of Bellamy and Gaia.

She remembers to be having gone through something like this. ( _What becomes of the Commander of Death when there's no one left to kill?)_ More than just anxiety or uncertainty. The awareness of having lost a piece of herself, of her individuality. As if the axis around which her world revolved had undergone a change of position.

A few moments after Indra left, Gaia gets up too. "I'm going to see how Madi is doing."

Clarke nods, grateful. (She is beginning to realize the sacrifice that Gaia made when she chose Madi instead of the Flame. For her there is no competition between her daughter's life and an AI, but she realizes that this is not the same for everyone. Gaia had to give up her faith.)

She would go herself if she didn't know that right now, she is the last person Madi wants to see. She will speak to her first thing in the morning. At night negative thoughts are always amplified. She knows something about that.

Bellamy pushes Madi's sketchbook towards her. The gesture immediately puts her on alert. "You should see this."

Clarke studies the sketches. When she comes to her picture she stops leafing through. Stares at the woman portrayed as if she were a stranger, with mixed feelings. She looks up to gaze at Bellamy. She is not surprised to find that he was already watching her. He looks tired, but the observant and wary eyes fathom hers in search of a confirmation or an answer to a silent question. His concern is duly considered. It warms her heart.

She clears the throat. "You’ve already seen it."

He nods. "I was with her when she drew it. She’s been asking about you, about us. I didn't say anything she didn't already know."

Clarke shrugs, hiding a smile. "There's hardly anything she doesn’t know about you. Six years are a lot of bedtime stories."

She can't decipher the way he's looking at her. All she knows is that it makes her skin tingle.

"You found fertile ground. When I didn't remember something or didn't remember it quickly enough, she kept interrupting to help me. Or to correct me, actually." Finally, he returns her smile. It is a miniature version of what he would usually give her, but it is understandable. Both have lost an important member of their family. Both are heartbroken, even if in his case there is still hope. "Apparently my memory is a bit fogged in some places."

"I'm sorry about that. She is a stickler for non-fictional biographies. She never wanted to skip the boring parts."

"Yes, I found out in ten minutes." Bellamy rubs his face with one hand, the corners of the mouth turned down. A cloud comes into his eyes and they go blank, lost in the memory of days gone by. "Octavia was just like her. A story could be fictionalized, but not fake. She always knew when I lied to her.” In a scarcely audible whisper, he adds, “I keep imagining her at Madi’s age."

Clarke searches for words of comfort. She wishes she could offer him some kind of consolation. The truth is that she has none. Everything that comes to mind sounds false, artifact.

"The night Wanheda knelt to Heda," she hears him murmur.

It seems like she woke up from a dream where the young version of herself was crying. Maybe for her father. Or maybe for Wells. Maybe Finn. Or Lexa. Sometimes it seems like she has known nothing but loss and pain in the past seven years. What is life apart from move from one grief to another? In an infinite cycle, like a snake biting its tail.

"It seems like another world," she says.

"Technically it was."

She rolls her eyes, but she is smiling. She can’t help it. Bellamy does that effect. "Not what I meant."

Bellamy chuckles softly. His laughter hasn't changed. It is the same as in the past and brings to mind bonfires and fake shooting stars, gates, mud and the characteristic smell of the forest after the rain.

"I was so angry with you back then."

She holds her breath but can't look away. His expression bleeds like a wound that cannot heal.

"You chose her over me, Clarke. I beg you to come home and you said no."

She holds out her hand, and he immediately understands her need for physical contact, the reassurance that all this is real and all that is buried in the past. Their hands are entwined over the notebook and they look at each other wordlessly, choked up, misty-eyed.

Bellamy's face is crossed by a myriad of reactions. An avalanche of emotional chaos.

Trying to explain herself, to make him understand the inadequacy she felt after Mount Weather is not easy. Somehow, she tries. She owes him that, even if it’s been years.

"In the face of all that I'd done, I didn't think I deserved it," she says. "The simple, human happiness to feel like I belonged to someone. I wasn't ready then, but I am now."

She hopes he understands what she is truly saying, that -

The roar of an explosion in the distance makes both stiffen. In a matter of seconds, they’re already standing and near the door. Clarke swallows her disappointment. Bellamy puts a hand on her elbow. Clarke turns around, a question already forming.

The kiss is quick, barely the pressure of lips against lips. If she hadn't had her eyes open, she almost wouldn't have felt it. He observes her, dazzled, pushes a lock of hair from her face with a tenderness that shakes her deeply. For the first time the smile he gives her reaches his eyes. It is warm and a little starstruck. Makes her want to taste it.

"We're not done here, not by a long shot.” His voice is hoarse, slightly breathless.

"Bellamy."

He puts his forehead against hers, with his thumb he follows the outline of her jaw. "I need to do things right and then-"

In his eyes are reflected the promises of nights spent in each other arms. Hungry, sleepless nights where nightmare and dream compete. Days spent side by side in rebuilding a new world from the ashes of the old. _The simple, human happiness to know that you belong to someone._

With a lump in her throat, Clarke rubs her nose against his. "And then," she repeats.

**Author's Note:**

> Last night I couldn't sleep and at some point, I had a brainwave. How much more would we have loved Claia scenes if Bellamy had been in place of Gaia?  
> That makes a lot more sense to me. Those scenes were meant to be Bellarke.  
> After all they've been through, I think we can agree that it would achieve such a powerful emotional impact.  
> In 7x01 instead of "who is the fleimkepa without a Flame", we would have had something along the lines of "what's left of me if I'm no longer my sister's keeper" with Indra just sitting right there, hard-faced, and Octavia's ghost between them.  
> In front of Madi's outburst, Bellamy's little smile, full of longing and understanding. "Welcome to puberty. At least you don't live in a shoebox. When she'll ask you to, you can give her space, or whatever the hell that means."  
> "The night Wanheda knelt to Heda" would have turn in a moment of hard truth. "I was so angry with you back then. You chose her over me, Clarke. I beg you to come home and you said no."  
> Hands holding, choked up, misty-eyed.  
> "In the face of all that I'd done, I didn't think I deserved it. The simple, human happiness to feel like I belonged to someone. I wasn't ready then but I am now."  
> When Clarke buries Abby's wedding ring, he would have mentioned Aurora.  
> "You are your mother's daughter, same as me" and said that "it's a pain that never ends. The loss of someone you love."  
> The meaningful look on his face while watching Clarke would have made us melt on the spot because we would have understood that it was meant for her. That he was talking about Praimfaya and leaving her behind, of six years spent on the Ring thinking that she was dead, burying his feelings of heartbreak behind his duty towards the others.  
> In 7x03 "I don't know what I have" would have become "You have me. We have each other" and "I don't want to lose anyone else" would have been "I don't want to lose you or anyone else."  
> All the drama and pathos of their fiery, reformative relationship reflected in those significant conversations, amplified in the light of mutual grief.  
> My dear fellows, I think we've been greatly, truly robbed.


End file.
